


Childhood Horror

by staygaytabulous



Category: Original Work
Genre: I honestly don't know what happened, all I knew is that I Could Not Walk, medical problem?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6252988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staygaytabulous/pseuds/staygaytabulous





	Childhood Horror

I blinked open my eyes, staring at the light purple of my bedroom walls, the sheen of light that shines from the blinds making me screw my eyes almost shut. I yawn and stretch my arm up as I roll onto my back, fingertips gracing the next wall. I've already forgotten when dream swirled inside of my imagination just moments ago. I stretch my legs out like I did my arms before sitting up. My curly hair is matted to my neck with sweat from the summer air, so I pull all of my hair up, as if I'm putting it in a ponytail, before dropping it all back down.

I blink a few more times: I am not a big morning person.

Throwing the covers off of me, I lightly smile at the grass pattern that Mom popsicle-stick-scratched into the opposite corner of my room. There were birds and birdhouses, a pup inside of a hat, a kitten inside of a bucket. I like the kitten the most.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed, toes feather-light on the ugly brown carpet that follows throughout my home. One step down - two - oh.

I fell.

Shock fills up my entire body when I realize that if I turn my head just to the left of me, I'll be able to see under my bed easily. I use my arms to push up off of the bed, but once I try to put weight on my knees, I topple down again. Tears burn in the corners of my eyes as I try to manouver myself around. I have to use my elbows like pickaxes. The floor is a mountain that I have to climb, to reach the top. The top being Mom and Dad's room.

I keep crawling, my arms starting to hurt from hauling my body across the carpet. Rugburn forming on my knees and elbows.

Water is falling down from my tearducks, splashing off my nose and chin down to the ground. My gasps and cries are getting louder, more desperate. I'm terrified that I've some how broke my legs. They don't hurt, they just. Are there. My legs are almost numb. I can't use them, but I can feel them there.

Once I'm at my door, I reach up and pull at the door nob. I can't see very well, but I don't remember living at any place but this house, so I know the layout by heart. The golden nob is cool against my hand, it feels good against my reddened skin.

The door swings open. The air from the rest of my home is colder than the air that's been trapped in my bedroom all night, making me shiver. I can hear Dad's loud snores. My heart speeds up. I'm choking on my breath, crawling faster. Just a few more feet until the darkness of my parents room engulfs me whole. I push on, trying to use my feet to help me along, but they do most nothing but get in the way.

Through their doorway, I sniffle before crying out again. Dad's still snoring, but Mom shuffles around. I gasp out, "Mom, mommy," and she sits up a bit. She takes a deep breath in before questioning me in a tired voice. I let myself cry harder, and she slides out of bed, grabbing her rob and throwing it around her. It's old and stained and I've never seen her on the weekend mornings without it - unless she's picked up a shift at Applebee's for whatever reason. She stands next to my head, now on the ground and no doubt making the carpet wet with tears. She questions me again, bending down to figure out why I'm on the ground.

"My legs won't work," I gasp. The water is starting to stop falling from my eyes, but I'm still in the works of sobbing.

Mom is confused, I can tell, because she hasn't tried to move me yet. She tells me to calm down, to stop crying, and I try. She asks if it hurts.

"No, but I can't walk, mommy."

She huffs before picking me up. I feel helpless. I'm ten and Mom is carrying me to my bed like I'm a baby.

She plops me back where I started, then stands back up and waits. My sniffling is diminishing, slowly my body stops shaking.

Mom looks at me funnily, then asks what's wrong again.

I gulp loudly, "My legs won't work!"I repeat.

Ducking down, she puts a hand on my knee. I tell her I can feel her hand when questioned about it.

"Well..." Mom mumbles, "I'll set up an appointment with the doctor, I guess." I nod and look down, bouncing my legs against my bed while my hands tug on my silky princess night dress.


End file.
